


definitely something

by Dresupi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Banter, Crushes, Drinking, F/M, Flirting, Kissing, Minor Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Mistletoe, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss, POV Hermione Granger, Past Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-23 05:22:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13183212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dresupi/pseuds/Dresupi
Summary: Fred elbowed her softly, pointing up above their heads to the sprig of green hanging in the doorframe.  “Looks like your luck is changing, ‘Mione.  That’s mistletoe.  If you kiss me at midnight, under the mistletoe, that’s double the good luck.  You’re practically guaranteed to have a better year than this last one.”Hermione pressed her lips together, looking up at the mistletoe and then over at Fred.  “Is that so?”“It is,” he nodded.  “It is very so.”





	definitely something

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aunbrey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aunbrey/gifts).



> December 27- Someone left up the holiday decorations and they’re caught under the mistletoe. 
> 
> (Sorry this is a day late, I had a bad mental health day yesterday!)
> 
> Unbetaed, un-Brit-picked and a day late. <3

There had once been a time when Hermione wouldn’t ever have thought she could feel out of place in the Burrow.  Not around so many people who loved her.  And _certainly_ not during the New Year celebration.

But ever since she and Ron had ended things earlier that year, she’d had an increasingly difficult time coming by for a visit.  It was strange.  Ron hadn’t even been living here for the duration of their relationship.  But they’d had dinner here on Sundays as a couple, and therefore, for the past three years, it had sort of become synonymous with her identity as Ron’s girlfriend.  At least, in her own head.  

Hermione felt no ill will from the family members, nor was any borne on her part.  She still worked amicably and side-by-side with Bill at Gringott’s.  She and Ginny still had monthly lunch dates to catch up.  Mr. and Mrs. Weasley still remained as bright and lovely as ever.  Even Ron and she were on good terms.  Their break-up wasn’t even a sad or upsetting ordeal at all.  Both of them had simply realized, nearly simultaneously, that their romance had fizzled down to a friendship.  There hadn’t ever been a ring or promises of a future, so there was simply no hurt or pain involved with the split.  

Hermione was a clever witch, some might say the cleverest, so she was well aware that whatever shift that had occurred was her own doing and certainly not one of the Weasleys’.  

And yet still, here she sat, stiffly on one of the high back dining chairs, feeling sorely out of place as Mrs. Weasley’s knitting needles clacked out another tiny baby blanket for yet another grandchild on the way.  

Ginny and Harry’s this time.  They’d announced their happy news over the Yuletide holiday and to be quite frank, Hermione was very excited for them.  Ginny was to be taking some time off from the Harpies to accommodate the pregnancy and birth.  Harry was fit to be tied, grinning at his wife every chance he got.  

It still warmed Hermione’s heart to see them together. And she’d never tell either of them this, but it was gazing at their happy faces one evening that made her realize just how little of a spark she and Ron had.  

They’d been sparking just fine at the beginning.  But as it ebbed, they had eased into a monotony that fell flat.  Hermione, of course, understood that passion never lasted, but she knew a couple needed something to build upon once it had fizzled. And that was what had been lacking.  She and Ron had no foundation to speak of.  They’d built their relationship from a school crush and it never really developed past that.  

And now, once again, gazing at Harry and Ginny, she wished for something half as lovely.  Half as lasting.  

Or just… _something_ would be nice.

Ginny slid a steaming mug towards her hand, jarring her from her thoughts.  “Earth to Hermione,” she giggled, reaching over to squeeze her hand.  “Sickle for your thoughts?”

“Might need a bit more than a sickle for Hermione’s thoughts,” Fred teased, making a rather large show of leaning across her lap to snag one of the mugs from the tray his mother had just set down on the end of the table.  He achieved his goal, straightening up to his full height, only to plop down on the edge of the chair that Hermione was sitting in.  

She scooted over automatically to accommodate him, much to Mrs. Weasley’s chagin, since she had already enchanted a dishtowel to flick at him for his lack of manners.

Fred was like a cat in that he always seemed to pick out the most prickly person in the room and then throw himself upon their lap.  

“Oh, come off it, Mum.  ‘Mione doesn’t mind…”  He slid his arm around her shoulders and squeezed, filling her with warmth at the action.  “Do you, love?”  

It was a good thing she was so used to him, or a nickname like that might send her into a blush of frankly crimson proportions.  It was no secret (thanks to Ginny) that she’d always harboured a fondness for Fred Weasley.  And it was no surprise that he sought to embarrass her at every turn because of it.

It was simply something she’d grown used to.  

Hermione smiled and shook her head, hoping like hell that she _wasn’t_ blushing as much as she felt like she was. She picked up the mug and brought it closer for a sniff.  As if perhaps the warm liquid in the mug might be to blame for her frankly childish reaction to Fred’s teasing.  The warm aroma of cinnamon spice and pumpkin wafted up from the mug and she hummed in delight.  Mrs. Weasley’s punch was both the best part of the New Year and spiked to the brim with butter-rum.  

Butter-rum could definitely explain the rapid rise of colour in her cheeks.  She took a quick sip before answering.  (His arm hadn’t moved.  Don’t think she hadn’t noticed that.)

“I don’t mind at all, Fred,” she answered truthfully. The look on his face was worth the bluntness of her reply.  

 _Oh_ , she thought smugly to herself.   _Here’s something._  

* * *

 

There were a scant fifty seconds till the new year when everyone gathered around the clock in the family room to countdown.  

Hermione remained in the doorway, sipping on her third mug of rum punch.  

Her cheeks had blushed plenty that evening.  Most of the occurrences having to do with Fred.  

She was certain he’d never given her this much attention before, but that might also be the rum punch.  

He slid in beside her, checking her shoulder with his.  “Don’t be glum. The new year’s bound to be better than this one.”  

She shrugged.  “I dunno about that, Fred.  I don’t even have someone to kiss at midnight.  Although… I _did_ kiss someone last year and here I am…”  She took another sip of her punch.   

Grinning, Fred elbowed her softly, pointing up above their heads to the sprig of green hanging in the doorframe.  “Looks like your luck is changing, ‘Mione.  That’s mistletoe.  If you kiss _me_ at midnight, under the mistletoe, that’s double the good luck.  You’re practically guaranteed to have a better year than this last one.”  

Her belly swooped at the thought of kissing Fred.

Hermione pressed her lips together, looking up at the mistletoe and then over at Fred.  “Is that so?”  

“It is,” he nodded.  “It is _very_ so.”  

“I suppose it’d be double the bad luck if I didn’t…” she mused, smiling.  

“Like you mule-kicked a mirror from beneath a ladder.”  

That was the moment that Mr. Weasley began the ten second countdown.

_“Ten!  Nine!  Eight!”_

“Guess I’d better kiss _someone_ then…” she teased, surprised to find him still standing so close.  Her head brushed against his shoulder and neither of them moved away.  

Ginny turned back towards them, an amused expression on her face.  “You’d better bloody well kiss her, Fred.  Or I will and you’ll be stuck with Harry.”  

Hermione licked her lips, biting back a chuckle when Fred took the mug from her hand and slipped his arm around her waist.  “As gorgeous as I find Harry, he’s spoken for.   I think I’d rather kiss you anyway, Hermione.”  

She was blushing again.  And she couldn’t really blame it on the punch anymore.  

“I’d _also_ rather if you kissed me, Fred.”  

She didn’t really hear the end of the countdown.  He kissed her before they reached ‘one!’.  Hermione didn’t mind, though.  It was definitely _something_ .  A very pleasing _something_.

Kissing Fred beneath the mistletoe to ring in the New Year proved to be one of the best decisions she’d ever made.  

A new tradition if there ever was one.  

**Author's Note:**

> Leave me sweet somethings in the comments, pretty please? <3


End file.
